


Do It (5-4-3-2) One More Time

by fadedhues



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Future Fic, M/M, New Year's Eve, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 04:40:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadedhues/pseuds/fadedhues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know the saying, ‘end the year with a bang’?”</p>
<p>Derek only lifts an eyebrow in response. </p>
<p>“What if,” Stiles leans in, “what if we end and start the year with a bang?” At Derek’s confused expression, Stiles slides his hand into Derek’s back pocket (talk about a tight fit) and squeezes. </p>
<p>“Oh my God,” Derek replies, but doesn’t ask if Stiles is serious, because Stiles is always serious about sex with Derek.</p>
<p>Always.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do It (5-4-3-2) One More Time

**Author's Note:**

> what can I say, I like sex jokes
> 
> title from Vegas Lights by p!atd
> 
> I can be found [here](http://fadedhues.tumblr.com/) (I do writing stuff sometimes [here](http://drabbledreams.tumblr.com/))
> 
> for Ihsan, who I accidentally inspired to watch Rent (do nOT watch Rent by yourself at least accompany yourself with chocolates or something omg) 
> 
> **Stiles and the others are all about 22 in this, so Derek's... whatever age you'd approximate from that
> 
> unbeta'd, sorry for any mistakes!!

“Stiles,” Lydia wrinkles her nose at him, holding a glass of something alcoholic in her hand, “Christmas has passed. The ugly sweaters are supposed to go back where they belong—in the closet until next Christmas.”

“Come on, Lyds!” he says good naturedly, waggling his own glass of whatever it is that Scott had given him in her direction. “As long as I have Derek, there’s no need to give up my sweaters. He’s accepted it; there’s no need to impress anyone anymore.”

Lydia rolls her eyes at him, pretty lips widening into a smirk. “Right, because you put in _so_ much effort before.”

“Touché,” he says, giving her a wry grin before looking around. “Speaking of Derek, where _is_ my incredibly sarcastic but super fine boyfriend?”

Lydia pointed in the direction of her kitchen. “That way, if I had to guess.”

Stiles slips through the crowd of people in Lydia’s living room—parties have always been her thing, and New Year’s is no exception. Lydia’s got a yearly dibs on hosting all the fun parties where people drink a lot (how she managed to turn her Valentine’s Day “get together” into a fantastic, drunken party, Stiles will never know); she’s passed off Thanksgiving and Christmas to Allison.

Just as Lydia had guessed, Stiles finds Derek talking to Scott in the kitchen. It’s as Stiles is standing there, studying the two, that the most _brilliant_ plan he’s had all year (including the plan he came up with that had successfully defeated the wendigo that had managed to cause a lot of trouble in a very short amount of time) comes to mind.

“Hey, babe,” he coos, sidling up to Derek, who raises an eyebrow at him, probably because he knows Stiles is using his I-have-a-good-idea-just-hear-me-out voice.

Which also happens to be his please-feed-me-I-can’t-cook-and-you-know-it voice, but whatever.

(Stiles actually can cook, but he once accidentally-on-purpose had a small kitchen disaster that led Derek to relieve—uh, _ban_ him from all food preparation duties.)

Derek’s voice is flat when he asks, “What?”

Stiles licks his lips, and Scott announces, “I’m gonna go find Allison now.”

Derek lifts his hand in a “see you later” gesture, but Stiles ignores the exchange. “You know the saying, ‘end the year with a bang’?”

Derek only lifts an eyebrow in response.

“What if,” Stiles leans in, “what if we end and start the year with a bang?” At Derek’s confused expression, Stiles slides his hand into Derek’s back pocket (talk about a tight fit) and squeezes.

“Oh my _God_ ,” Derek replies, but doesn’t ask if Stiles is serious, because Stiles is _always_ serious about sex with Derek.

_Always_.

“What, you don’t wanna?” Stiles sounds like a petulant toddler whose parents are withholding candy (you _could_ say his favorite candy is Derek’s dick), but he doesn’t particularly care.

“No, no, Stiles, you know I do, but…” Derek looks around. “Where could we do it and not be killed by Lydia?”

“Oh, she’ll kill us no matter where we do it, so I vote bathroom.”

Derek winces. “Is it worth—”

“Worth it?” Stiles interrupts. “For the sheer fact that we can say we banged our way into the New Year? Yes, yes I think so.”

“Alright, you win.”

“I thought I might.” Stiles winks at Derek, and Derek throws his head back and laughs.

“You’re so ridiculous,” he says fondly.

“Your dick is ridiculous… ly h—”

Derek barks out a laugh and shoves him away gently, taking the alcohol out of his hands. “Enough of that, then.” Derek steers Stiles out of the kitchen and, to his dismay, away from the alcohol.

“I’m not even inebriated,” Stiles protests. “See, I can use the word ‘inebriated!’”

At exactly 11:55, Stiles shoves Derek into the bathroom and up against the door, blindly trying to lock the door as he kisses Derek, open mouthed and hot and messy, his favorite kind of kiss (actually, any kiss with Derek is his favorite kiss).

(Fuck, he is so far gone.)

Derek’s hands are already working on Stiles’ belt as Stiles goes for Derek’s button down, pulling the shirt out from where it’s tucked into Derek’s pants and shoving the green shirt off Derek’s _absolutely massive, holy shit undressing Derek feels like unwrapping a present every time_ shoulders.

“Wanna blow you,” Stiles says into Derek’s perfect lips.

“Won’t last,” Derek replies, biting Stiles’ lower lip and tugging at it slightly as he grabs Stiles’ dick through his pants.

“Okay,” Stiles agrees, because Stiles will agree with anything when Derek’s hand is on his dick.

Pants shoved to their ankles, Derek without a shirt and Stiles in his _still in his fucking ugly sweater_ , he realizes, the two step away from the door. Derek turns Stiles around and Stiles puts his hands on the sink and bends over. Derek takes the lube and condom packets from Stiles’ pant pockets (Stiles has taken to carrying them around) and Stiles only has to wait a few beats before Derek’s cold, slicked finger is circling Stiles’ hole, pushing in at Stiles’ impatient noise. Derek is always meticulous about stretching Stiles out, and while Stiles appreciates the love behind it, he really wants Derek to just fuck him already.

After a while, he deems himself ready and barks, “Ohmygod, I’m good, just move it,” over his shoulder. Derek lightly bites his shoulder and steps back to slip the condom on and slick himself up.

When Derek finally, _finally_ pushes into Stiles, Stiles can’t help but let out a breathless moan. He puts his hands on the counter to brace himself, because he has the thought, in his _Derek Derek Derek_ filled mind, that it would suck if his hands were to slip off the sink.

It wouldn’t be the first time Stiles has brained himself on something during sex, though.

Derek has both hands on Stiles’ hips, steadily increasing the speed of his thrusts, and Stiles can hear everyone outside scream, “Happy New Year!”

Derek angles Stiles’ hips a certain way and _there_ , _right there_.  “Look in the mirror,” Derek tells him, and Stiles does so, looks at his flushed face and the muscles tensing in Derek’s shoulders.

It is, needless to say, a _really fucking hot_ sight.

Stiles moans as Derek reaches around and grabs Stiles’ dick, stroking a few times before Stiles comes with a cry, careful to keep his grip on the counter as Derek keeps going, coming however many thrusts later.

They clean up the bathroom and pull their clothes back on, sneaking out of the bathroom (even though the entire party probably knows that they just had _really hot sex_ ).

“Really?” Lydia asks with an eye roll when she finds them drinking in the kitchen. “Really, was that necessary?”

“Hey, we got to start the year off with a bang,” Stiles says with a grin.

Scott whispers, a little reverently, “ _Dude_ ,” and holds his hand out for a fist bump.

Lydia looks at Derek and Allison. “Congratulations, you’re both dating _children_.”

“A _bang_ ,” Stiles whispers to Scott, and they both collapse in laughter.

“Time to cut off the drinks,” Allison sighs.  

 

 


End file.
